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Passionately Pursuing Christ

~ Christ Centered Poetry by Debbie Harris

Passionately Pursuing Christ

Tag Archives: faith

From Gabriel’s Light to the Infant’s Face: A Sequence of Christmas Sonnets and Songs Drawn from Holy Scripture by Debbie Harris

03 Wednesday Dec 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Advent, Christ-centered poetry, Inspirational

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bible, Christian Poetry, Christmas, faith, god, Inspirational, jesus

1. Shakespearean Sonnet: The Annunciation (Luke 1:26–38)

In Nazareth the angel broke the noon,
A blaze of light that stilled her water jar;
The virgin lifted eyes of startled moon
And heard the name that shattered Eden’s bar.
No sword, no trumpet—only “Hail, full-graced,”
Yet heaven’s war was won in that one word;
The Word Himself, now hidden in her womb,
Lay curled like flame inside an earthen lamp.
“How shall this be?”—the timid question rose;
The Spirit’s shadow folded like a wing,
And love too fierce for flesh to diagnose
Bent low and made her body heaven’s camp.
“Behold the handmaid of the Lord,” she said—
And God became a Child beneath her heart.

2. Petrarchan Sonnet: The Visitation (Luke 1:39–56)

She hastened to the hills with secret fire,
A hidden coal beneath her simple dress;
The Baptist leapt—small prophet in desire—
To greet the ark that bore the Living Yes.
Two women, old and young, in wonder met;
The summer air grew gold with canticle,
Magnificat rose like a banner set
Against the dragon’s age-long chronicle.
He scatters proud in thoughts they thought secure,
He casts the mighty down from thrones of pride;
The hungry eat the bread that shall endure,
The rich go empty into endless tide.
Thus mercy visits mercy, grace meets grace—
Earth becomes again a holy place.

3. Spenserian Sonnet: The Journey to Bethlehem (Luke 2:1–5)

From Galilee the decree sent them forth,
A Caesar’s word that moved a Jewish maid
Heavy with God across the dusty north
To David’s town where prophecy was laid.
The donkey plodded slow beneath the load,
Her silence deeper than the pain she bore;
Beside her Joseph kept the starless road,
His carpenter’s hands guarding heaven’s door.
No room, no room—the final inn denied;
They took the cave where cattle steamed and stood.
There in the dark, while all the world slept blind,
The Word was made flesh in a manger of wood.

4. Villanelle: The Birth in the Manger (Luke 2:6–7)

While she was there, her days were now fulfilled,
She bore the Holy Child in silent pain;
And cradled God in straw the beasts had filled.

No royal chamber, no soft silk to shield,
Yet heaven’s glory shone through common grain—
While she was there, her days were now fulfilled.

The hands that shaped the stars lay weak and stilled,
A newborn mouth that soon would break death’s chain,
And cradled God in straw the beasts had filled.

O humble trough where endless love was spilled,
Where ox and ass breathed warmth on Him who reigns—
While she was there, her days were now fulfilled.

The timeless entered time, and time stood thrilled;
Eternity took flesh in Bethlehem’s lane,
And cradled God in straw the beasts had filled.

Come, fallen hearts, and wonder at the guild:
The King sleeps where the cattle’s breath remains.
While she was there, her days were now fulfilled,
And cradled God in straw the beasts had filled.

5. Terza Rima Sonnet: Gloria in Excelsis (Luke 2:13–14)

Sudden an angel split the midnight veil,
And glory flamed where humble shepherds stood;
Their hearts near failed beneath the blazing hail.

“Fear not!” he cried, “I bring you tidings good:
In David’s town the Savior lies this night!”
Then heaven’s host in countless multitude

Poured forth their song of pure celestial light—
“Glory to God!” the sky itself was rent; “On earth be peace, to men of His delight!” The song still echoes where the veil was bent.

6. Shakespearean Sonnet: The Magi’s Star (Matthew 2:1–11)

There rose a star no Chaldean chart had seen,
A fire that moved and halted, bright and strange;
Three kings forsook their thrones of gold serene
To follow where its silent leading ranged.
Through desert nights and Herod’s lying hall
They tracked the flame that mocked the laws of space,
Till low above a stable it stood tall
And poured its beams upon an Infant’s face.
Gold, frankincense, and myrrh—three gifts they laid
Before the Child who needed nothing then;
Yet all the wealth of earth and heaven paid
Its homage to the poorest of poor men.
They turned for home; the star had done its part—
A Little Child now knocked at every heart.

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Yea, and All That Will Live Godly in Christ Jesus Shall Suffer Persecution by Debbie Harris

24 Monday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christian Poetry

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Tags

Biblical Truth, Christian Poetry, faith, Inspirational

“Yea, and All That Will Live Godly in Christ Jesus Shall Suffer Persecution” is a seven-stanza hymn-portrait of the underground, biblical church in places where following Christ is illegal and dangerous.

It begins with quiet, dawn gatherings of ordinary believers who share simple bread and water, meeting in secret because their faith has marked them for arrest. They draw strength from the same Scriptures that sustained Peter, Paul, and Daniel in prison and fire.

The poem traces their losses (homes, jobs, freedom, even life) and their strange gains: deeper joy, unbreakable unity, and a gospel that spreads faster the harder it is crushed. Like wheat that multiplies when ground, like seed that sprouts when buried, the persecuted church becomes more truly itself under pressure.

We see prisoners preaching to their guards, widows giving their last coins with laughter, teenagers smuggling pages of the Bible, and entire families refusing to bow to the state’s idols. Their love for enemies, their refusal to hate, and their calm certainty of resurrection confound their persecutors.

The closing stanzas lift the eyes forward: every empire that hates Christ will one day collapse like Babel. The same Jesus who had no place to lay His head will return with nail-scarred hands to gather His hidden, hunted flock. Until then, the church endures by Scripture alone, saved by Christ alone, kept by grace alone, clinging to the promise that faithfulness unto death receives the crown of life.

The poem is both lament and defiant celebration: persecution is normal, promised, and ultimately powerless against the church that belongs to the risen Lamb.

Beneath the radar of the watching state,
they meet at dawn before the soldiers wake,
a handful sharing bread upon a plate,
a cup of water for the Master’s sake.
No steeple marks the place, no bell is rung—
only the Word, alive on every tongue.

They read where Peter wrote from prison chains,
where Paul counted it joy to bear the scar;
they hear the Lord who stills the wind and reigns
though doors are locked and iron bars stand far.
Like Daniel in the den, like saints of old,
they trust the God who turns the fire cold.

Foxes have holes, the birds have nests, He said—
but not the Son of Man, and not His own;
so now they wander, refuge-less, instead
of bowing to the image on the throne.
They lose their homes, their jobs, their right to speak,
yet find the kingdom buried in the meek.

They are the remnant promised long ago,
the little flock the Father calls by name;
the bruised reed unbroken, the faint glow
that will not quench until the Day of flame.
The more the dragon rages, coils, and strikes,
the more the church becomes what Jesus likes.

See how they love the ones who drag them off,
how prisoners preach to guards inside the cell,
how widows give their last two coins and laugh
because the gospel cannot be withheld.
Their blood is seed; their silence shouts abroad—
the gates of hell shall never hold this squad.

O church of Scripture only, Christ alone,
by grace through faith, to God be glory still;
you walk the narrow road the world disowns,
yet every step fulfills the Father’s will.
The scroll is open, and the Lamb stands sure—
His wounded hands have made the triumph pure.

And when the kingdoms of this age collapse
like towers of Babel crumbling into sand,
the King will ride with lightning in His steps
and call His hidden ones with nail-scarred hand.
Then every secret prayer, each whispered verse,
will roar like thunder through the universe.

Until that morning, faithful, suffering bride,
keep holding fast the Word of life you read;
the world may scorn, imprison, and deride—
but Jesus lives, and He is coming with speed.
Your names are graven where no sword can reach,
sealed by the Spirit, kept beyond all breach.
Amen. Come, Lord Jesus. Even so—come.

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“Ye Shall Not Add… Neither Shall Ye Diminish”:A Cry Against the Alteration of God’s Holy Word by Debbie Harris

20 Thursday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational

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bible, christianity, faith, Inspirational, theology

he poem is a fierce, urgent warning that the single most soul-destroying habit a person can adopt is to tamper with the Word of God (adding to it, subtracting from it, softening it, or reinterpreting it to suit human preference).

It portrays such alteration as a slow-acting but lethal poison: a tiny change (one jot, one tittle) seems harmless at first, yet it quietly corrupts the heart, removes the anchor of truth, and ultimately leaves the soul shipwrecked and estranged from God.

Modern attempts to “update” or “humanize” Scripture are exposed as proud rebellion: men making themselves kinder than God and forging a false mercy that becomes an eternal funeral pyre.

The closing charge is absolute: lay down the pen, touch not one syllable, stand in awe and trembling. Better to be broken by the unflinching rod of the true Word than to die smiling under a counterfeit gospel. The words of Scripture are settled forever; to meddle with them is to invite spiritual ruin.

  • Deuteronomy 4:2
    Ye shall not add unto the word which I command you, neither shall ye diminish ought from it, that ye may keep the commandments of the LORD your God which I command you.
  • Deuteronomy 12:32
    What thing soever I command you, observe to do it: thou shalt not add thereto, nor diminish from it.
  • Proverbs 30:5-6
    Every word of God is pure: he is a shield unto them that put their trust in him. Add thou not unto his words, lest he reprove thee, and thou be found a liar.
  • Joshua 1:7
    Only be thou strong and very courageous, that thou mayest observe to do according to all the law, which Moses my servant commanded thee: turn not from it to the right hand or to the left, that thou mayest prosper whithersoever thou goest.
  • Jeremiah 26:2
    Thus saith the LORD; Stand in the court of the LORD’s house, and speak unto all the cities of Judah, which come to worship in the LORD’s house, all the words that I command thee to speak unto them; diminish not a word.
  • Matthew 5:18-19
    For verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled. Whosoever therefore shall break one of these least commandments, and shall teach men so, he shall be called the least in the kingdom of heaven: but whosoever shall do and teach them, the same shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven.
  • Galatians 1:8-9
    But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed. As we said before, so say I now again, If any man preach any other gospel unto you than that ye have received, let him be accursed.
  • Revelation 22:18-19
    For I testify unto every man that heareth the words of the prophecy of this book, If any man shall add unto these things, God shall add unto him the plagues that are written in this book: And if any man shall take away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book of life, and out of the holy city, and from the things which are written in this book.

Beware the hand that dares to bend
The living Word to private end;
No poison drips so slow, so sure,
No blade cuts deeper, none more pure
Than subtle change of what God said,
A shifted line, a verse half-dead.

The soul that drinks that altered stream
Will sicken in a silent dream;
First taste seems sweet, the change so small,
A jot, a tittle, that is all.
Yet day by day the fever grows,
Till truth lies bleeding no one knows.

Men call it wisdom, call it light,
To trim the Word for modern sight;
They soften threats, they blunt the rod,
And crown themselves more kind than God.
But mercy forged in human fire
Becomes the soul’s eternal pyre.

I’ve seen the wreck on every shore—
The heart that thought it needed more
Than what was written, plain and clear;
It added comfort, stifled fear,
Then woke to find the anchor gone,
And every star of guidance none.

O trembling hand, lay down the pen,
Let not one sacred syllable bend!
The Book that thunders, “Do not add,”
Still holds the power to make hearts glad
Or break them on the whetstone true;
Its ruin is its healing too.

Touch not the Word, though curiosity burn;
The soul that tampers shall itself be torn.
Better to bleed beneath the rod
Than smile forever estranged from God.
Stand trembling, stand in dust and awe—
The Word is settled. That is all.

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To Pray The Impossible by Debbie Harris

20 Thursday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational

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Tags

bible, Christian Poetry, christianity, faith, god, Inspirational, jesus

The poem portrays praying for the impossible as a daring, almost reckless spiritual adventure. It is an act of extreme faith: standing at the absolute edge of what can be, flinging fragile hope into an abyss, walking a razor-thin line between despair and miracle .Rather than a polite request, such prayer is depicted as trespassing into forbidden territory—barging into heaven’s locked garden, disturbing the sleep of the divine, and demanding what was never meant to be given. Yet the tone is wondrous, not blasphemous: the impossible is personified as something curious, half-awake, even amused by the audacity.In the end, when the impossible actually happens, the breakthrough is overwhelming and humbling. The speaker realizes the true thrill was never in receiving the answer, but in the wild courage to ask for a road where no road could exist. The poem celebrates the sheer adventure of radical, divine and Holy faith.

To pray the impossible is an adventure indeed
a barefoot crossing of a sea that has no other side
where the wind tastes of salt and unfinished psalms
and every heartbeat is a drumbeat against the ribs of God.

You stand at the edge of what cannot be
palms raw from holding questions too heavy for hands
whispering into the dark that refuses to answer back
yet the dark leans closer, curious, almost tender.

It is to fling your small coin of faith
into a night with no bottom
and hear, far below, the faint metallic ring
of something vast turning over in its sleep.

To pray the impossible
is to walk the narrow ridge between despair and dawn
where miracles grow like frost-flowers on the breath
delicate, lethal, unbearably bright.

You become the trespasser on a shore the tide forgot
reaching for fruit that hangs just beyond the stars
and the angels, instead of turning away
lean in, half-smiling, as if they too
have been waiting to see what happens next.

And when the impossible finally cracks open
like a sunrise inside your chest
you will not say “I knew it all along”
you will only fall to your knees
laughing and weeping at once
because the adventure
was never about arriving
but about daring to ask
for a road
where no road
could ever be.

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Of Him, Through Him, and to Him Alone: The One Eternal Desire of the Royally Redeemed by Debbie Harris

17 Monday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational, Jesus Christ, King of Kings, Praise, Prayer, Royally Redeemed

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bible, Christian Poetry, christianity, faith, Inpirational, Royally Redeemed, theology

Rooted in the doxology of Romans 11:36 (“For of Him, and through Him, and to Him are all things: to whom be glory for ever. Amen”), these three interconnected poems form a single, burning declaration:

  1. Everything that exists flows from God’s delight (Of Him).
  2. Everything that is saved was saved only through the blood of the Lamb (Through Him).
  3. Therefore everything that is saved now exists for one fierce, eternal purpose: to return all glory to Him alone (To Him).

The central message is that the royally redeemed (those purchased by Christ to be kings and priests) have only one true desire: that no rival glory—big or small, spectacular or mundane—ever steal what belongs to Jesus.

From the first breath of the morning to the last tear of the night, from spreadsheets to suffering, from triumphs to traffic, every moment is to be lived as fuel for the one fire that will never go out: the praise of His glory. There are no neutral seconds for a blood-bought soul. Worship is not a Sunday activity; it is the entire point of Monday through eternity.

The series ends with a jealous, joyful, lifelong Amen:
Only to Him.
Only forever.
Starting right now.

Only to Him be glory forever
—not just with our lips,
but with the stubborn, beautiful minutes of Monday morning.

We do not sing this in heaven only;
we begin it in traffic,
in the oncology ward,
in the 3 a.m. panic,
in the cubicle,
in the kitchen sink full of last night’s dishes.

Living for His glory forever means:

  • The alarm clock is answered because He is worthy of the day.
  • The spreadsheet is finished with excellence because half-hearted work insults the King who gave us minds.
  • The apology is offered quickly because unforgiveness robs Him of the praise due for the cross.
  • The paycheck is stewarded, the body is disciplined, the phone is put down at dinner—
    all because lesser gods keep trying to steal what was bought to be His alone.

Every ordinary step can thunder with eternity
when it is taken on the single road that leads back to the throne.

The royally redeemed have no neutral moments.
There is no “off-duty” for a purchased soul.
We eat to the glory of God.
We sleep to the glory of God.
We laugh, weep, text, vote, mow the lawn, change the diaper,
fight temptation, forgive the wound—
all of it is either fuel for His praise
or stolen kindling for some idol that will burn.

So we wake up jealous.
Not petty-jealous, but white-hot, worshipful jealous:
Let no rival have what is His.
Let no comfort, no ambition, no fear, no pleasure
sit on the throne that was paid for with blood.

Only to Him.
In the spectacular and in the small.
In the spotlight and in the unseen.
In the healing and in the hospital bed.
In the yes and in the long no.
In the wedding and in the funeral.
In the first breath of the day and the last sigh of the night.

Only to Him be glory
—not 99%,
not most of the time,
not when it’s convenient or emotionally moving.

Only.
Forever.
Starting right now.

Let the redeemed life be one long, unbroken echo:
“Whatever you do—whether you eat or drink or scroll or suffer or love or die—do it all to the glory of God.”
Because one day the echo becomes sight,
and every knee bows,
and every tongue confesses out loud what we practiced in secret:

Jesus Christ is Lord—
to the glory of God the Father.

Only to Him.
Forever.

Amen.
Let the day begin.

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A Poetic Psalter Celebrating the Seven Days of Divine Artistry: From Uncreated Light To Holy Rest: A Septet Of Praise For The Days Of Genesis by Debbie Harris

11 Tuesday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christ Centered Devotionals, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Jesus Christ, King of Kings

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bible, Christian Poetry, christianity, faith, Inspirational, jesus, theology

Awakening the Cosmos – A 7-Day Praise-Poem

  1. Uncreated Light – God speaks; raw light shatters darkness into molten dawn.
  2. Vault of Breath – Waters part, sky domes; sapphire firmament cradles unborn storms.
  3. Green Awakening – Seas recede, land rises; seeds burst into orchards of quiet fire.
  4. Lamps of Eternity – Sun, moon, stars hung as censer, coin, and nails in night’s scroll.
  5. Choir of the Deep – Oceans teem; leviathan and minnow sing in silver symphony.
  6. Image-Bearer – Dust breathes, man and woman walk as kings naming miracle and ache.
  7. Holy Pause – Creation halts in perfect hush; Sabbath dew crowns the finished world.

Day 1: The Uncreated Light
Before the ledger of time was inked,
You spoke, and darkness learned its name—
not absence, but a velvet womb
where silence pooled like liquid obsidian.
Then light—
not the sun’s borrowed coin,
but the raw mint of Your breath—
struck the void like flint on steel.
It scattered in shards of molten gold,
each photon a syllable of Your joy,
and the abyss, astonished,
blushed into morning.
Praise the Voice that split the night
and taught the dark to dream.

Day 2: The Vault of Breath
You lifted the waters like a curtain
and stretched a sky between—
a hammered sheet of sapphire,
thin as a lover’s sigh,
yet strong enough to hold
the thunder’s unborn roar.
Clouds drifted in like sheep
fresh-shorn of storm,
their underbellies bruised with rain.
The deep below kept its ancient counsel,
mirroring the heavens in a glass of salt.
Praise the Architect who set a dome
where breath could learn to fly.

Day 3: The Green Awakening
You gathered the seas in Your cupped hands,
and land rose—
not timid, but eager—
shoulders of granite, hips of loam,
a body ready to be clothed.
Seeds cracked open like secrets,
unfurled green tongues to taste the sun.
Orchards erupted in quiet fire,
petals the color of bruised dawn;
vines stitched the earth with emerald thread.
Every root a prayer,
every leaf a hallelujah.
Praise the Gardener whose whisper
turned dust to orchestra.

Day 4: The Lamps of Eternity
You hung the sun like a censer
swinging incense of molten noon;
the moon, a silver coin
pressed to the lip of night.
Stars—
not pinpricks, but nails
driven through the dark to hold it open—
spilled their ancient light
across the scroll of space.
Galaxies wheeled in slow sarabande,
comets trailed white fire like bridal veils.
Praise the Lamplighter who taught time
to keep its appointments.

Day 5: The Choir of the Deep
The seas convulsed with delight—
scales flashed like shattered mirrors,
wings of gulls stitched sky to wave.
Leviathan sang bass in the abyss,
while minnows piped descants
in silver filigree.
Eagles carved the wind with knives of bone,
their shadows racing over dunes.
Every creature a note
in the wild hymn of becoming.
Praise the Composer who tuned the waters
to a symphony of breath.

Day 6: The Image-Bearer
You stooped,
gathered dust as a sculptor gathers clay,
and breathed.
The clod flinched,
then stood—
adam, red as the earth he came from,
eyes wide with borrowed starlight.
Beside him, woman—
rib curved like a crescent moon,
laughter already blooming in her throat.
They walked among the beasts
as kings in a court of miracles,
naming lion, naming lamb,
naming the ache inside their chests.
Praise the Potter who signed His work
with a heartbeat.

Day 7: The Holy Pause
You ceased.
Not from weariness,
but from the perfection of enough.
The world spun on its axis
like a top You set in motion,
humming with finished grace.
You sat—
if sitting is what gods do—
and the silence was a sanctuary.
Sabbath settled like dew on cedar,
like mercy on the wounded world.
Praise the Rest-Giver
who taught creation
the art of being still
and knowing.

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Jesus, My All by Debbie Harris

11 Tuesday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Bible Centered Poetry, Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational, Jesus Christ, King of Kings

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Christian Poetry, faith, Inpirational, Inspirational, Poetry, Praise, worship

Jesus, You are my hope—
the dawn that breaks the night,
my glory—crown of light
that turns my shame to white.

My victory—sword and shield
when battles rage within,
my song—melody unsealed
that silences my sin.

May praise rise like incense sweet
from heart and soul and mind,
a ceaseless flame, a steady beat,
all day long entwined.

In every breath, in every thought,
Your name alone I sing;
my hope, my glory, victory wrought—
Jesus, my everything.

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The Inestimable Treasure That Never Ends Is Jesus Christ, Our Savior, Lord, And King by Debbie Harris

10 Monday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Bible Centered Poetry, Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Jesus Christ, King of Kings

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bible, Christian Poetry, christianity, faith, Inpirational, Inspirational, Royally Redeemed, theology

Summary of the Poem

The poem celebrates Jesus Christ as the ultimate, inexhaustible treasure—priceless, eternal, and infinitely renewing.

It portrays Him in three majestic roles:

  • Savior: who redeems us through His sacrifice on the cross,
  • Lord: who reigns with sovereign power yet tender care,
  • King: whose kingdom and glory have no end.

No matter how deeply we draw from His mercy, grace, wisdom, or love, the supply never diminishes—the more we take, the more He gives. The poem invites every weary soul to come empty-handed and be filled from this boundless, inestimable treasure: Jesus Christ, our Savior, Lord, and King.

In fields of grace, beneath the sky’s wide dome,
A treasure lies no map has ever shown—
Not gold that dims, nor gems that lose their fire,
But Christ Himself, the heart’s unspoken choir.

We dig with faith through layers of our days,
Past guilt’s dark soil and fear’s entangling maze;
Each spade of prayer strikes deeper than the last,
Unveiling light that centuries outcast.

The more we take—His mercy, truth, and peace—
The more He gives; the store will never cease.
A single glance reveals a thousand more,
Each facet new, each promise to explore.

Exhaust the stars? Then count the grains of sand.
Exhaust the sea? Then hold it in your hand.
But Jesus? No. His depths defy the sum;
Eternity itself cannot be done.

So come, weary seeker, bring your empty cup—
He fills, refills, and lifts your spirit up.
The treasure waits, unspent, unbound, untrod:
Forever found, forever ours—our God.

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The Hope Of The Rapture by Debbie Harris

09 Sunday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Bible Centered Poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Jesus Christ, King of Kings, Praise

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bible, Biblical Truth, Christian Poetry, christianity, faith, Inpirational, Inspirational, theology

The hope of the Rapture gives

us a ceaseless victorious hope!

Until He comes rejoice in our

blessed Savior’s many benefits

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To the Kind-Hearted,Especially Those Who Belong To The Household of Faith by Debbie Harris

09 Sunday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christian Poetry

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bible, Biblical Truth, Christian, Christian Poetry, christianity, faith, Inpirational, Inspirational, Poetry, Praise, Royally Redeemed, salvation, theology, worship

In a world that often spins too fast,
you pause—
a gentle hand on a trembling shoulder,
a whispered prayer in the midnight hour.

You are the quiet ones
who carry groceries up three flights,
who text “I’m thinking of you” at 2 a.m.,
who leave the last cookie on the plate
and pretend it was never theirs.

You are the faithful
who rise before dawn to intercede,
who memorize verses not for show
but to stitch them into broken hearts.
Your faith is not a banner—
it is bread, broken and given.

To the neighbor who shoveled my walk
without a word,
to the stranger who paid for my coffee
when my card declined,
to the elder who called just to say
“God sees you”—

Thank you.

Your kindness is a lantern
in the fog of hurry and harm.
It does not shout;
it simply stays lit.

May every small mercy you scatter
return to you as a harvest of peace.
May the God who notices sparrows
notice you—
and smile.

With all my heart,
thank you.

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